


A Change is as Good as a Rest

by whelvenwings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 08:03:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1933164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whelvenwings/pseuds/whelvenwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long, hard hunt in Arizona, the boys are exhausted. Sam, Dean and Cas are ready to sleep - in their own beds, as usual, of course. But then Sam takes matters into his own hands... it's lucky Cas doesn't have his wings any more, or they'd never have both fitted on that double bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Change is as Good as a Rest

“Three rooms, please,” said Dean with a thin smile. He rubbed a greasy hand over the back of his neck, hoping that the air conditioning in his room would be better than the wheezy, stale coughs of air coming from the grill over the reception desk. Behind him, he could hear Sam scuffing his feet on the floor in impatience, and he sensed Cas standing close by his right shoulder, sighing when the receptionist took his time to respond. It had been a long, long case out under the hot Arizona sun, and the last thing any of them felt ready to deal with was poor customer service.

“There are two rooms available,” said the receptionist in a reedy, nasal voice that cranked Dean’s temper up one more notch.

“OK, well, we’re gonna need three beds,” he said, trying to maintain his smile.

“There are two rooms available,” the receptionist repeated.

“Yeah, I heard that part,” Dean snapped. Sam cleared his throat, and Dean took a deep breath. “I meant, what kind of rooms are they?”

The receptionist gave him a dead-eyed, weary look, chewing mechanically on a piece of gum, before tapping the keyboard of the aging PC gathering dust on the desk. Dean wiped his hand across his forehead; he needed a drink and a long sleep.

“One twin, one double,” the receptionist finally droned.

“We’ll take ‘em,” Dean said immediately, pulling out his wallet. “Cas, you can take the double and me ‘n’ Sam will take the twin.”

As they were walking down the dark, hot corridor to their rooms, Cas paused at a vending machine and began to dig around in his pocket for change. Several steps further on, Dean and Sam stopped to wait for him, watching as he bit his lip in concentration, squinting at the candy bars suspiciously.

“He’s thinking about that chilli chocolate I told him about,” Dean guessed, smiling slightly as he watched Cas carefully inserting the right amount of coins. He looked as tired and dusty and overheated as Dean felt, but somehow Cas managed to make it look good – Dean’s old t-shirt sticking slightly to his lower back, his hair stuck up on one side and swept across his forehead on the other.

“You shouldn’t have told him about that,” Sam commented wryly. “He listens to you.”

Dean shrugged, keeping his eyes fixed on Cas, who was now attempting to figure out how to retrieve his chocolate from the bottom of the vending machine.

“No more’n anyone else,” he said carelessly. Sam turned to him, and Dean didn’t need his peripheral vision to know that his brother was wearing a completely exasperated expression.

“Really, Dean?” he demanded.

Dean shrugged again, feeling a faint blush rising up his neck. When he turned to look, Sam’s face was even more frustrated than Dean had anticipated.

“What?” Dean said, as Cas made his way over to them, chocolate bar clutched triumphantly in his hand.

“That’s it. That’s  _it_ ,” Sam snapped. “It’s hot and I’m tired and I’m done. I’m going to bed.”

“OK, great,” said Dean, following Sam, who had begun to stride off down the corridor towards the twin room. “I’ll come too.”

Sam unlocked the door and flung it open.

“No, you won’t,” he said flatly, as Dean made to follow. “Goodnight, you two.”

And he slammed the door.

Dean held his hands out wide, as though staring at the door with incomprehension written in every line of his body would somehow convince it to open.

“Sam, what the hell?” he called. “Sam?”

From inside the room, there was the sound of the TV being switched on. Dean turned to look at Cas, who had just taken a large mouthful of his chocolate bar. Eyes wide, Cas shrugged. Dean faced the door again, banging on it loudly with the heel of his hand.

“Sam, you open this door right now! I’ve gotta sleep, man, we haven’t had any rest in…” he checked his watch, and closed his eyes briefly when he read the time. “Thirty-seven hours, hell. Come on, open up!”

Resolute silence from Sam. On the TV, it sounded as though they were rerunning old episodes of Seinfeld.

“ _Sam_ ,” Dean said. “Don’t make me break this door down.”

“You’ll get us kicked out,” Cas observed quietly. Dean groaned.

“Sam, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but it’s not fun! Open this door, or I’ll…”

“Hey!” the receptionist was poking his head through the door that led to the reception, frowning. “Knock it off, or you’ll have to leave!”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but the guy had already gone. He looked back at the door, raised his hand to knock again, and then dropped it.

Without looking at Cas, Dean hefted his bag higher up his shoulder and stomped further down the hall, unlocking the door to the double room and walking inside. He chucked his stuff onto the floor and perched at the end of the bed, scrubbing his hands over his face. The air-con was no better in here; the room was hot and stale. Just his luck. He supposed he should have guessed.

Cas put his head hesitantly around the door, looking confused.

“Should I… do you expect me to wait out here?” he asked. “The days when I could go without sleep are gone, Dean.”

“What?” Dean snapped. “Oh, no, man. Sorry. I’m gonna sleep on the floor.”

Cas stepped further into the room, which was small – barely big enough to fit the double bed inside. He surveyed the tiny gap between the wall and the bed.

“That doesn’t seem…” he began, but Dean had already swung himself upright and pulled a toothbrush out of his bag. The door to the ensuite opened outwards, so he had to manoeuvre around it awkwardly to get inside.

Dean brushed his teeth with a kind of fury, spitting in the sink as though the peppermint toothpaste were poison. When he re-entered the bedroom, Cas was standing in front of the place where he was supposed to be sleeping.

“Get out of the way,” he growled. “’m tired.”

“No, Dean,” Cas said firmly. “You can’t sleep down there and then drive us home tomorrow. You’ll still be exhausted. Just… sleep on the bed. If you’re uncomfortable with the idea of sharing, then  _I’ll_ go on the floor.”

“Cas, I can’t – it’s too weird, man, I just couldn’t –”

“Dean.” Cas’ expression was stern, mixed with an element of humour; Cas thought he was being an idiot, Dean realised.

He sighed, and put his hand over his eyes. It felt so good to have them closed: the dry, itchy feeling eased.

“Fine,” he said at last, slowly. “And you don’t have to sleep on the floor, Cas, don’t be stupid.” Cas nodded and moved towards the bathroom to brush his own teeth, crumpling up his candy wrapper and throwing it in the bin as he passed.

“But we’re keeping all our clothes on!” Dean called after him, flopping down on top of the covers and snuggling his head into the soft pillow. He closed his eyes, groaning slightly at how good it felt to be horizontal and safe, finally. He heard the click of the light switch and the gentle pad-pad-pad of Cas’ socked feet moving carefully around the bed, and felt the mattress dip when he lay down. Dean shuffled slightly, making sure that Cas had enough room. His clothes were scratchy and too hot against his skin, his jeans heavy and digging in slightly around his waist. His feet were burning up inside his synthetic socks.

He tried to ignore it. He’d soon cool down. If he could just get to sleep…

He felt a solitary drop of sweat running sideways across his lower back, and it tickled.

“OK, this isn’t working,” Dean announced, sitting up suddenly and flicking on his bedside lamp; he felt Cas jump slightly, the springs jolting under them. “I’m too damn hot.”

“It is uncomfortable,” Cas confessed. “I would prefer to take off my jeans.”

“We can do that,” Dean agreed. “And our socks. That’ll be fine.” He watched Cas start wrestling his jeans off, canting his hips up to slide them down over his ass. “Uh, um. Right.”

He stood up and kicked off his own jeans, and then opened the door to the tiny wardrobe on his side of the room. At the bottom was an extra pillow, which he picked up and threw onto the bed.

“We’ll put that between us,” he said. “So we can face whichever way and it won’t be weird, or anything. Good?”

“Fine,” Cas said, sounding a little bemused if unsurprised by Dean’s finicky attitude.

They pushed the pillow in between them and settled down again. Dean flicked off the lamp and turned to stare at the white cotton pillowcase. He felt cooler with his jeans off, his bare legs pressed against the covers. He wondered suddenly what underwear he was wearing. Please,  _please,_ don’t let it be the Batman ones –

He wondered what underwear  _Cas_ was wearing.

It’d be easy to check.

“No,” he said sharply, rolling over. This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to –

“Dean? Are you alright?” Cas’ voice sounded distant, as though he were facing the opposite way.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” Dean muttered, embarrassed. “Sorry, Cas, I was just… thinkin’ about the hunt.”

“It was a difficult one,” Cas replied, and Dean could hear the shuffling of the covers and feel the bend of the springs as Cas rolled over to face the pillow between them.

“I’ve had worse,” Dean said with a yawn.

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Did I ever tell you about the first wendigo we ever came across?” Dean whistled, shaking his head. “That was bad, man. And there was that demon on a plane. I had to  _fly._ ”

“I expect that was fun,” Cas said dryly, and Dean chuckled.

“Yeah, it was super,” he said. “But we got through it OK. Like most things, I guess.”

Cas was quiet for a little while, but there was a pensive quality to his silence that kept Dean’s eyes open, waiting for Cas to put the thought into words.

“You solved a lot of cases before you ever met me,” Cas said eventually.

“Yeah,” Dean said slowly. “It was our job. And?”

“And…” Dean could hear Cas swallow. “And I wondered, was it easier without me there?”

Dean lay quietly for a moment, gathering up a reply.

“Why’d you ask that?” he asked. “It was different. Of course it wasn’t easier, there were only two of us.”

“I’m not much use these days,” Cas said softly. Dean frowned into the dark.

“What?”

“Without my wings, or my grace. I’m not much use to you. I wondered if you considered me a burden when you took a case.”

Dean sat up and ripped away the pillow between them, throwing it on the floor and scowling down at Cas.

“You don’t have to answer…” Cas began.

“You really think that?” Dean growled. “You think you’re a burden? Cas… don’t be ridiculous. You’re the best fighter with a blade that I know, and you’re getting better with guns, too. You can take care of yourself. You’re smart. You’ve got my back, and Sammy’s back, and we’ve got yours. You’re – you’re doing OK. You’re doing OK, alright?”

After a moment, Cas nodded silently and Dean flopped back down to lie on his back.

“Sorry I asked,” Cas said in a small voice. “I didn’t mean to force you to say… all of that.”

Dean turned his head to look Cas in the eye; he could see the other man’s face dimly in the half-light coming through the window.

“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered. Even though there was a decent distance between them, Dean could feel the intimacy - in Cas’ eyes, in the softness of his slightly-open mouth, in the way his fingers were slightly curled where they lay loosely on the mattress, arm crooked up against his tummy. Dean cleared his throat and rolled over.

“I should’ve said it ages ago,” he added gruffly, after a minute.

**

Dean was woken by the sound of someone calling for help.

He jerked awake, reaching for his gun before he was even fully-conscious. The voice was so close, was it Sam? No, wait, he wasn’t sharing a room with Sam, he was here with –

“Cas?” Dean said loudly, reaching blindly for his lamp and turning it on. Cas was lying flat on his back, his eyelids twitching and his forehead shiny with sweat. As Dean watched, he groaned and muttered something incomprehensible, looking more distressed than Dean had ever seen him. One hand chopped uselessly through the air, and Cas called out again.

“Cas, hey, hey,” Dean said. “Cas, can you hear me?”

He reached out a tentative hand and laid it on Cas’ shoulder. Cas’ eyes flew open and he seized Dean’s wrist in a death-grip, his teeth bared in a snarl.

“Whoa, Cas! It’s me!” Dean said, raising his other hand placatingly, meeting Cas’ wide and terrified eyes. “It’s me, Cas, it’s Dean. You’re OK, I gotcha, you’re safe, OK?”

Cas sat up slowly, breathing deeply through his nose, his lips pressed tight together.

“Easy, man. You OK?”

Cas didn’t reply; instead, he released Dean’s wrist and ran his hand through his hair, looking away, bringing his knees up to his chest.

“Cas. Was that a nightmare?”

Wordlessly, Cas nodded. He buried the lower half of his face against his bare knees.

“You get these often?”

Another nod.

“Why didn’t you  _tell_ me?”

Cas didn’t move for a moment; then, all in a rush, he stood up and reached for his jeans.

“Where are you going?” Dean demanded.

“Out,” Cas replied succinctly.

“Right, OK, Captain Obvious. Out where?”

“Just… out,” Cas said, lifting his hands slightly, at a loss. “It’s what I do when I have a nightmare. Go out under the sky. The sense of space, the feeling of… unexplored possibility…” Cas broke off.

“Uh-huh. And that helps?” Dean said, still sitting up on the bed, toying nervously with the hem of his t-shirt.

Cas looked down at his feet.

“Not usually,” he admitted.

“No?”

“No. You can have too much unexplored possibility, I think.” Cas looked up and met Dean’s gaze, his eyes golden-blue pools in the low lamplight, deep and reflective. Dean cleared his throat.

“Well, then,” he began, and cleared his throat again, and then coughed. “How about – how about this time, we do it different.”

Cas tilted his head questioningly, starting to shiver. The temperature had dropped; Dean could feel the chill kissing his own skin, and threw back the covers so that he could wriggle under them.

“Come here,” he said, and then worried that his tone had been overly commanding, but Cas walked placidly back towards him, kicking his jeans back off as he moved. Dean grabbed their pillows and sat them up straight, leaning against them so that he was half-sitting up. “We’re gonna try this, OK? You just… come in here and we’ll roll you up tight. No big unexplored space or whatever, we’ll deal with that later. Just you and me.”

Cas sat down on the side of the bed, still shivering a little as the sweat on his skin dried away. He looked at his pillow, half-hidden underneath Dean.

“How do I…?” he began awkwardly, so Dean held out his arm invitingly.

“Cuddle up, buttercup,” he said, and then considered grabbing the bedside lamp and hitting himself repeatedly over the head – but it was worth his blushes, because Cas was smiling a little and rolling himself under the covers, tentatively resting his head lightly against Dean’s shoulder. Dean leaned over and tucked the blanket carefully around Cas’ body, making sure that there were no gaps.

“How’s this?” he said, as he did so.

“Better,” Cas sighed, sounding sleepy already despite Dean continuing to lean one arm over him. “Much better. Thank you, Dean.”

“No worries,” replied Dean absently, making sure the covers were just so.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Cas said, his voice even lower and rougher than normal with tiredness.

“Not a problem, Cas,” Dean replied easily, sitting back down and sliding his arm slowly all the way around Cas’ shoulders, smiling slightly when Cas tucked his chin against Dean’s chest. “The nightmares… you been having them long?”

“Every time I sleep,” said Cas. Dean rubbed a slow circle on Cas’ shoulder with his thumb. “Some of the things that I’ve seen – I can’t shake them off. Things I’ve done, with my own hands, and I keep replaying them in my mind when I’m asleep…”

Cas broke off, his hand clenched in Dean’s t-shirt. Dean sat silently, a lump in his throat. He knew exactly what Cas meant – had been there himself, haunted by his memories of Hell, of Purgatory – and yet he had no idea what to say. Cas’ head was still resting on his chest, increasingly heavy as he relaxed, a reassuring weight. Before he could stop himself, he turned his head slightly and pressed a kiss to the top of Cas’ head.

Cas hummed happily, and his grip on Dean’s shirt loosened, his hand lying flat and warm against Dean’s tummy.

They fell asleep with the light on, neither willing to move and turn it off.

**

Dean woke up the next day with one of Cas’ legs between his own, his head lolling against Cas’, a slightly bitter taste in his mouth. He felt better rested than he had in months.

“Guys, we’re leaving in five,” came Sam’s voice through the door, accompanied by a knock; Cas stirred, rubbing his face against Dean’s shoulder as he stretched. He woke up slowly, blinking twice, focusing first on Dean’s chin and then letting his gaze move up to meet Dean’s eyes.

“Hello, Dean,” he said, his voice grumbly with sleep.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean replied, with a little half-smile.

“Seriously, I’m packing up the car and I’m gonna go in five minutes,” Sam called, hitting the door twice more before walking away, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. Dean reached up his arms and stretched, dislodging Cas from his chest. They sat up, both wearing slightly hesitant, bashful expressions.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Dean said. Cas nodded, biting his lip, and his glow of happiness dimmed a little. “You use the bathroom first, I’ll get dressed in here.”

They stood, swaying slightly towards each other before moving away in different directions.

**

The drive back to the bunker was long and mostly silent; Cas sat curled in the back of the Impala, occasionally meeting Dean’s eyes in the rearview mirror and smiling awkwardly. Sam said very little, staring out of his window, listening to the music Dean put on with a fond expression that only Cas could see.

Back at the bunker, around eighteen hours after they’d set off, the boys stumbled down the steps and pushed open the heavy metal door. They’d managed to grab a bite on the road, and only wanted to sleep off the strange, weighty tiredness that a long journey brings.

Sam disappeared into his room, while Dean and Cas pressed on down the corridor to their bedrooms. Dean paused at his door, and Cas moved past him, his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey,” Dean said. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Cas turned, and gestured loosely down the corridor.

“My room?” he hazarded, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

“What about the nightmares?” Dean asked. “You’ll be OK?”

Cas shrugged, a human gesture that made Dean’s heart twist.

“I’ll manage,” he said, and traipsed on down to his bedroom door. Dean shrugged, and turned away.

**

At three in the morning, Dean heard the soft pad-pad-pad of Castiel’s feet.

“Dean?”

He rolled over, and Cas gave him a strange, aborted wave, standing in the doorway in Dean’s old pyjamas.

“I – Dean, I just had a nightmare, and I was wondering…” he tailed off, but Dean was already lifting his covers with a soft, warm smile.

“Told you,” Dean said, as Cas climbed in and tucked his head into its spot, just above his heart.

“Yes,” Cas murmured, “you did.”

Dean kissed the top of his head, and this time, Cas pressed his lips gently against Dean’s chest, just under his collarbone, so Dean leaned forwards slightly to kiss Cas’ temple. Cas tilted his head up and put a soft kiss to Dean’s neck, and then another, and another, opening his mouth slightly so that Dean could feel the warmth of Cas’ breath on his skin. Dean breathed out, releasing a sigh that it felt as though he’d been holding in for years, and lifted Cas’ chin with one finger so that he could look into his eyes.

“How long?” he asked.

“Um,” Cas said, blushing, his eyes wide. “I’m – I think it’s average-sized, Dean…?”

“What?” Dean said. “Oh, god, Cas, no! I meant, how long have you felt like this?”

“Oh!” said Cas, his flush deepening; Dean started to laugh, feeling the happiness bubbling up from inside of him like champagne, fizzing and glorious. He  _giggled_ , like he hadn’t in years, his tummy crunching up with mirth; he tried to stop, but when he looked down at Cas’ pink face, he found himself setting off again, stifled chuckles at first, and then undignified snorts.

“Shut up, Dean,” Cas said, trying to look wounded but seemingly unable to repress a grin at Dean’s continued peals of laughter.

“You thought I was – I –” Dean tried to say, but couldn’t get the words out.

“I thought you might want to know,” Cas said, his haughty tone belied by his smile. He poked Dean lightly in the ribs. “Stop laughing at me!”

Dean pressed his lips together and nodded solemnly, but the giggles were uncontrollable – Dean was crying a little, now - and Cas was going more and more pink, his eyes bright and beautiful when he lifted his weight up on one elbow, tilted his head, said,

“I told you to  _stop_ ,” and then kissed Dean on the lips.

It was smooth and chaste at first, the shock of the kiss leaving Dean momentarily frozen – but then Cas moved back a little and before he knew what he was doing, Dean was reaching out and grabbing Cas’ t-shirt and bringing them back together, kissing him as soundly and sweetly as he knew how. Cas’ lips were just as warm as Dean had always imagined they might be, chapped but still soft, and so  _perfect_ in a way that no other lips had ever felt against his own. He opened his mouth a little and Cas responded with a hum of enjoyment that stirred a fire in Dean’s belly; he ran his hands up Cas’ back and buried them in his hair, loving the warmth of Cas’ mouth, and the way his tongue flicked gently against his own. Eventually, he pulled back a little, catching Cas’ bottom lip with his teeth and tugging on it gently as he moved away.

“I stopped,” he said. “But I could start again, any minute. We should probably do that some more.”

Castiel nodded slowly, reaching up to run the backs of his fingers along Dean’s jawline.

“We should,” he said. “Definitely, we should.”

Later, when they were lying still and content in each other’s arms in the grainy morning light, Cas said,

“From the first moment I saw you, Dean Winchester. That’s how long.”

Dean smiled, knowing that Cas could feel it where his cheek was pressed against Cas’ forehead, and allowed himself to drift gently into deep, soft sleep.


End file.
